Present Trail
by Fire Bear1
Summary: Alfred is annoyed that Arthur only gets him joke presents for his birthday but, when Francis mentions Arthur's situation with his own birthday (and the fact he doesn't know the exact date), he hatches a plan... What's in store for Arthur when he finds a matryoshka doll on his front step?


_**I tried to get this finished for yesterday and failed. This was for Iggy's birthday yesterday.  
**_

_**Firstly, most information I didn't already know from going to London (like London Dungeons and the stall and Camden Market) and Paris (like the Parisians' driving O.o) I got from Wikipedia. **_

_**I looked up "traditional presents from {insert country}" to find presents. Some of them were just tourists stuff, really, but I particularly love Kiku's thing. Some presents I made up, like the British brothers', Ludwig's, Gil's and the Italy's.**_

* * *

Francis found Alfred sitting at his table of presents, pouting. "What is it Alfred?" asked Francis, sitting down beside him and putting his arm around him. "Are you upset that you can't use my present at the party, ohonhon." He grinned at the American. Alfred stared back blankly, an eyebrow slightly raised. It reminded Francis of a certain someone. "He turned up, didn't he? What did he get you, cher?"

Alfred went back to pouting. "Yeah. He came. And he gave me this stupid thing!" He handed Francis a box. Curious, Francis opened it – only to get hit in the face by a boxing glove which popped up out of the box. As Francis cursed Alfred drummed his fingers on the table and stared into the distance. "He never gives me a cool present, just these stupid joke ones. It's so unfair!"

Francis set the box back down on the table, the boxing glove and spring beside it. "Well... Do you ever give Angleterre a present on _his_ birthday?"

Alfred looked up, his eyes wide. "Artie has a birthday?!"

Francis looked at him in disbelief. "Of course he has a birthday! Well... He doesn't know when it is; no-one does. He celebrates a multiple birthday with his brothers to celebrate their Union but it's not a big deal and, most years, they don't get along well all in the same room. He usually turned up at my house, completely drunk. Unfortunately, he usually passes out at the front door..."

"He... He doesn't know... his own birthday...?" breathed Alfred, his eyes wide. He looked rather upset and Francis hid a knowing smile. He was such a cute little boy.

"Non. None of those brothers do, really. I know that Arthur takes a day off on Saint George's day, though. He has never explained why."

"Saint George's day?"

"It is in April, cher. Would you like me to find out when for you?"

"Ah, yeah!" exclaimed Alfred, excitedly. "And... can I borrow your house that day?" Francis frowned in confusion. He looked at the American's face and realised that he was beginning to plan something big.

* * *

Almost ten months later, Arthur woke up to the twittering of birds and the sound of a car pulling up into the drive. He groaned and sat up, wondering who it could be at this time in the morning. Perhaps it was just the postman, though. He stood up and stretched before grabbing his dressing gown as he heard the knock on his front door. He hurried downstairs as he slipped it on. "I'm coming! I'm coming!" he exclaimed as there was another knock just as he reached it. Pausing only to tie his dressing gown properly, he unlocked the door and opened it.

There was no-one there. A black car was driving as quickly as possible out of the driveway. Frowning in confusion and irritation, Arthur looked down. There was a box on the doorstep. It had no address written on it nor any attached letter of explanation. He bent over and picked it up cautiously.

He took the mystery box into his kitchen and examined it carefully for any signs of ill will before making himself a cup of tea and some rather burnt toast. Sitting down to eat and drink at the kitchen table, he tapped a finger on the table as he stared at the mystery object. Finally, with a sigh, he pulled it towards him and opened it.

Inside was one of those Russian dolls. His eyes widened. Was this one of Ivan's curses? Had he just been cursed by the man who continuously wrecked his magical plans? Worried, he decided to find out what was inside the doll. He stopped himself and examined it as something caught his eye.

The outer doll was a blonde man with bushy eyebrows. It was wearing a green uniform. Arthur stared for a moment longer before giving a small laugh. A doll that was supposed to be him – how cliché. He pulled at the top and opened it.

Arthur was rather shocked to find a doll inside which looked like Ivan. His grey coat and scarf clear beneath his silver hair. He blinked and opened it. Inside that doll was one which looked like Yao, his green uniform also painted. The next doll was one which appeared to be Francis in his usual flashy uniform. The final doll looked like Alfred, grinning up at him. He sighed as he pulled it open again. He expected another doll – he recalled that there had been another person in the Allies' meetings – but, instead, he found a note. Two notes, actually, both rolled up individually and placed by a loving hand inside.

Frowning, he unrolled one and took a glance at it. He promptly scrunched it up so that none of the "Become one, da?" scribbled all over could be seen. He had definitely been cursed. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he picked up the other note and unrolled it. He expected it to be the same but, instead, he found a riddle written in the Russian's handwriting.

_The __дьявол__ once brought stones from __Ирландия_

_And now they lie together. _

_Except for one which struck a __монах__ on his heel._

Arthur stared at the riddle. What on Earth did it mean? And why was it in the doll? In fact, why had the doll been left there? Sighing, he left his half-eaten toast and, taking the note and his tea, wandered into his study. He pushed the button on his laptop and waited for the computer to start up for a translation as he re-read the note, puzzling over the significance of the stones and the heel.

He nearly spat out the last of his tea as his laptop finally showed him the log-in screen. The Friar's Heel – that must be what the riddle was talking about! To make sure, he hurriedly logged in and brought up the Internet, finding a reliable translating site. He input the Russian words and, sure enough, the riddle told him about the folk tale of the stone.

Biting his lip, Arthur looked down at the note and then sighed. He expected that Ivan was asking him to meet him there – in a rather roundabout way. He didn't want to go on his day off – he'd rather have a quiet day in with his magical friends – but he was becoming curious as to what this was all about.

He sighed and rose, walking off to find some clothes.

* * *

Arthur pulled on the handbrake and switched off the ignition. It had taken him close to two hours to get to the Stonehenge site. Luckily, with the time of year, there was not a lot of tourists and there were less people around. He got out of the Mini and stretched.

Then he turned from the familiar landmark and headed towards the entrance to the car park. His destination was there, not in the standing stones. At the entrance was a stone some way away which, legend had it, had been thrown by the Devil at a friar who had discovered him putting Stonehenge in place. It had struck his heel and then stuck in the ground.

When Arthur arrived, he couldn't see anyone and he walked around the stone. He knew there was no-one there, however, and he was confused as to what was going on. He sighed. It was probably an elaborate joke. He looked down at the ground with another sigh, rubbing at his tired eyes and spotted something on the ground.

Arthur bent down and picked up the scroll. Tied to it was a coin with a hole in the middle. Feeling the magical power emanating from it, he pulled out a handkerchief and pulled the coin free. Knowing it was full of Lukas' magic, he slipped it into his pocket. Then he unrolled the scroll.

_Use the magic as you see fit._

Confused, Arthur was about to go looking for Lukas and Ivan – he was worried that Ivan had done something to his friend – when he noticed that there was more to the message. "Revelabunt!" he said, and watched as a further message slowly appeared on the paper.

_The place where headless __spøkelser__ reside_

_And where __prinser__ were imprisoned._

_Juveler are plenty here_

_By the river._

Arthur sighed. What on Earth was going on? Had Ivan made him go on a wild goose chase? Without access to the Internet he stared at the clue. A river. The Thames, perhaps? Imprisoned? A dungeon, maybe? Headless... Headless what? Headless ghosts? So, perhaps, somewhere to imprison people and which now contains ghosts?

"The Tower," muttered Arthur as he finally understood the clue. He really was on a fruitless journey if he had to go back to London.

* * *

Arthur gazed at the Crown Jewels for a moment before realising that there was a guard at his elbow. He glanced towards him and turned as he seemed to be wanting to speak. "Yes? Can I help you?" asked Arthur politely, even though he was feeling irritated after his long drive.

"Ah, are you Mr. Kirkland?" he asked.

Arthur frowned and surveyed the man. He had dark brown hair and grey-blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses which he pushed up his nose as he was looked at. He was rather portly and it was obvious that he spent most of his time sitting behind a desk. Of course, this didn't mean that he wasn't deadly or being paid by Ivan.

Finally, Arthur said, "Yes. I am Arthur Kirkland. What is the problem?"

"Ah, good," said the man with a sigh. "I've been asking every man who turned up. I've been asked to give you something by an African bloke. I looked at it and it doesn't seem very dangerous." He took a box out of his pocket. "I didn't open it, of course, just checked the outside. Can't be too careful, what with the Jewels around." He handed it over to Arthur before hurrying off to scold some schoolchildren for putting their hands on the glass protecting the crown.

Arthur grit his teeth in frustration. He had no idea what was happening but he was starting to curse whoever had set this into motion. He opened the box and looked inside. He was shocked to find a beautiful rhinestone brooch inside. He lifted it out and examined it. It was shaped like some sort of flying bird and was made of the sort of rhinestone which was a deep green. It would match Arthur's eyes which were now wide with astonishment. Was this a present?

Underneath, however, was another note.

_I hope you like it!_

_But a tourist attraction is visited_

_For thrills more than the wonder._

_Evil characters from the streets of London roam_

_And a sharp drop will end your life before the gift shop._

Arthur rolled his eyes. Couldn't they just be more direct? Beating around the bush like this was stupid. He quickly worked out the next place to go. It was, after all, the only place where people like Jack the Ripper still ran around.

* * *

Arthur's angry aura was making people avoid him by the time he got to the gift shop of the London Dungeons. He had wasted valuable time in the attraction and still hadn't managed to find any stupid clue. Nor had he found Ivan, Lukas or Eric (he had guessed by the time he had gotten to the Dungeons that it was him since rhinestones were popular in Cameroon, or so he'd heard).

Squeezing past some giddy students, he was going to just leave and go home when an employee stopped him. "Are you Mr. Kirkland? Nickname... Opium... if I remember correctly?"

_Yao?_ thought Arthur before once again surveying the woman. She had brown hair styled in loose curls. Her dark blue eyes sparkled with curiosity and interest. He doubted she knew who he was, let alone would wish him ill will.

"Yes?" said Arthur guardedly, watching her.

"Ah, this is for you, then, sir," said the woman, handing over a rather large box.

"Oh. Thank you," he said before hurrying from the store. He crossed the road and, under the overhang of the building there, he opened the box. Inside was a beautiful calligraphy set. He was very confused now – what had this been left to him for? He spotted the note and extracted it from under the various tools.

_對於你_

_Famous __市場__in your home._

_Plenty of stalls._

_But watch out for the __旅遊商店__._

So Yao was in on it too. What the hell was going on? He sighed and tried to think of a place which contained stalls. A market, he supposed. Camden Market, maybe? He sighed. More travelling to find out what was going on.

* * *

Arthur decided to stop at a small stall which was selling some small cupcakes and tea. Thankful that there was a table to sit at and have a cup of tea and something to eat, he smiled at the woman behind the counter. He ordered a few odd cakes such as the Earl Grey cupcake and sat at the single table. He made his way through some, hungry but not wanting to eat only cakes, and he held his tea in his hands gratefully, sipping it slowly, savouring it.

"Excuse me," said the woman, suddenly. Arthur looked up at her and frowned at her questioningly. "Are you Mr. Kirkland?"

The Englishman sighed. "Yes. Do you have something for me, too?"

"Too?" asked the stall holder as she handed him a large package.

"Ah, yes. This has been happening all day. I don't understand why. Sorry for the trouble."

"That's alright!" said the woman, cheerily. "Happy to help!"

Arthur nodded to her and sat back down on the table. Carefully, he opened the package and, inside, he discovered several balls of wool in the colours of the Union Jack, a couple of carefully folded jackets and some scarves, hats and gloves. He blinked. What was this? He held up a hat which had a large Union Jack on the front. Another one had the St. George's cross. He was tempted to put that one on, considering the day. Finally, amongst all the things, he found a piece of paper.

_Have a braw day, eejit._

_An e'e so big _

_It shows you the town._

_That big bell(end) o' yers_

_Is visible from it._

_(In a manner 'o speaking, of course.)_

_[It's a big wheel, Arthur!]_

Arthur chuckled at his brothers' attempts to give him a clue to the London Eye. It was so obvious, considering they didn't use a different language much. And David had made it considerably easier for him. He had always been the kindest of his brothers, even if he mostly huffed and puffed about Arthur's decisions.

With another sigh, Arthur downed his tea and left the table, hurrying off to get to the tourist attraction.

* * *

It was odd to find no queue at the London Eye. Apparently it had been closed for a couple of hours for maintenance. It had been during the week, so the company was unconcerned at losing much money. As it was, as Arthur got there, the ticket office was just opening up and he was the first in line to buy a ticket. He cursed the fact that he still had to buy a ticket even though it was his home and he had already been on it several times.

At the Eye, he was let onto an empty carriage. There was no-one else queued up yet and, after waiting for around a minute, the staff gave up on anyone else coming and shut the doors, letting Arthur go off into the sky to see London.

Instead, Arthur searched the car, looking for another clue. Finally, he found a package under the seat he was sitting on. He was glad the staff had probably been informed of this – otherwise, it might have caused a bomb scare.

Carelessly, he opened it, the messy wrapping paper ripping easily, and found a white flag and a pizza set. There also seemed to be a book of recipes for pasta and pizza dishes. He knew exactly who it was from. He found the messily folded note and read it.

_Ciao!_

_There are wax __modelli__ here._

_{This is a pretty bad clue – but that's just what you deserve you tea bastardo!}_

_Ah, fratello is only making a joke. Don't hurt him Mr. England!_

Arthur stared at the clue for a moment before laughing. It was such a ridiculous "clue". He had known where it was as soon as he saw the word "wax". Time to visit some old friends.

* * *

Arthur had wandered round the Madam Tussaud's wax museum for a while until he found the next clue. He was beside the Queen's statue when he spotted something odd out of the corner of his eye. Looking down, he noticed what appeared to be a small statue. He leaned over and picked it up before glancing round, hoping that no-one would complain. The little toy soldier was rather cute and it reminded him of the times he used to make some for Alfred. He sighed sadly at the memory and untied the note that was tied to the little man's body.

_Jerk England! Take this with you and give it a good home!_

_/The next clue is a famous street. An __etsivä__ lived there with his __lääkäri__ friend./_

_\On the street of a __bagare.\_

A famous street? He had no clue what the other words meant at a glance. The Brit did a double-take. "Bagare" - was it just him or did that look like "baker". "Baker Street?!" exclaimed Arthur excitedly. He calmed himself down when he saw people glancing at him. He grimaced in apology. Perhaps the "etsivä" meant detective and the other word meant doctor.

"The Sherlock Holmes Museum," sighed Arthur happily. He hurried out of the room, pleased at an impromptu chance to visit.

* * *

Arthur entered the museum with a smile. He always loved coming here. He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of Sherlock Holmes. Of course, he wasn't real but the musky smell of the museum was deceptive.

With a smile on his face, he was prepared to wander round and waste time before worrying about any clues or packages. However, before he could get very far, one of the museum's attendants hurried over and stopped him.

"Excuse me," said the young man. "Do you happen to be Mr. Arthur Kirkland? We were told you'd arrive today. We have a package for you."

"Ah, thank you," said Arthur, his heart sinking. He should really find out what was going on. But he wanted to spend more time with the famous detective – in a sense, anyway. He glanced at an old poster framed on the wall and sighed. Holmes would definitely follow the clue.

Taking the package to a nearby café, he ordered more tea before opening the package. Inside was a nutcracker, a box of chocolates and what appeared to be some sort of embroidery. He blinked and smiled a little. Gingerly, he picked up the nutcracker. It reminded him of the ballet. It was an odd story. He pulled the lever on the back to open the mouth – he wanted to let its mouth fall and make that satisfying noise with it. However, he found that the clue was inside. He pulled it out and unrolled it, letting the mouth snap shut as a woman bustled over with his tea. He thanked her and sipped at it as he read the clue.

_A building in Alexandra Park. _

_Ally Pally is its nickname._

_It is a Grade II listed building._

_Events happen often._

_It has an ice rink._

_((You are being too revealing dummkopf.))_

_[[__Bocsánat! I don't think Ludwig is very good at making up clues!]]_

"Alexandra Palace is is, then," muttered Arthur as he continued sipping his tea.

* * *

A case of beer stared back at Arthur as he looked down at the obvious package. It was just outside the entrance to the palace and people were avoiding it. The frustrated gentleman sighed and crouched down. He opened the package to find a box under the plain wrapping paper. A little annoyed, Arthur ripped open the box; bottles of beer nestled inside along with a note.

_Hey, __Augenbrauen,_

_You have to go to your __Königin._

_Her place is really huge!_

_Salute the __Wachen__for mich._

With a sigh, Arthur realised who it was from. He recognised the first German word as the insulting term that Gilbert usually called him. He glared at the rest of the message. Honestly, couldn't they all just write in English?

"Her place is really huge..." he muttered to himself, trying to figure it out. He frowned, his brow creasing in concentration and irritation. "Ah," he said after a few moments. "Her... Her Majesty."

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he leaned over and hauled up the box. He grunted and gasped, thinking he would drop it. After a moment of steadying himself, he began to waddle out of the park.

* * *

"Ah, good afternoon, sir," said one of the captain of the guards. He was preparing for the change in front of Buckingham Palace and was glancing at his watch as Arthur approached.

"Good afternoon, Captain," Arthur replied. "I don't suppose you have seen any of my acquaintances around here today?"

"Hm," said the captain, trying to think and watch the time simultaneously. "I believe someone _did_ turn up, yes. Ah! I think they left something for you in the guardhouse..."

"Ah, thank you Captain. Carry on," Arthur said with a smile and a salute. The Captain returned it with a nod before he started his shouting. Arthur winced and hurried off at a brisk walk.

At the guardhouse, he saluted one of the guards who returned it and let him in. Inside he immediately noticed a box. He sighed again and walked towards it; the guards watched from a distance whilst trying not to seem like they were. Opening it up, he found a delicate tea set. He gaped at its quality and gazed at it lovingly. He wasn't sure if these things were presents or jokes but he definitely wanted this to be for him. With a smile, he looked at the note.

_नमस्ते__,_

_These white cliffs are famous._

_Stop there for what you need._

_गुड लक _

Arthur smiled. Finally, a straightforward clue. He put his hand in his pocket and gripped his car keys. It was time for a drive due South.

* * *

The stone flew over the edge of the cliffs of Dover and Arthur watched with gritted teeth as it hit the rocks below. This bloody treasure hunt was getting him nowhere and he had no idea what was going on. It was getting ridiculous and he just wanted to go home. But, he knew, he was almost compelled to keep going, more out of curiosity than anything else. He sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair. His stomach growled and he ignored it – he was used to being hungry. If it hadn't been so unhealthy, he would have eaten the Austrian chocolates by now. If he hadn't been so close to the edge of the cliffs, he would have drank some of the beer. He kicked at the ground and felt his shoe hit something hard. He frowned and picked it up.

Immediately, he dropped it, having felt the magic in it. This time, he knew, it was Vladimir's magic embedded in an odd looking stone. Another scroll was attached to it. He hesitantly picked it up with his handkerchief and took the scroll. As he unrolled it, a wind blew up, whipping his clothes around and ruffling his hair.

_S__alutări__. Use this as is appropriate._

_You have to go on a journey._

_But don't use Tunnels – that's cheating!_

_You have to use the __bac__._

"I'm already on a journey, Vladimir," Arthur sighed, placing everything in his pocket. And it was starting to get ridiculous. He didn't need to know what "bac" meant to know where he was going...

* * *

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?"

"Ah, yes. I believe I need to get to France. I don't have a ticket, though. Here's my passport." Arthur handed the woman the little booklet and she took it with a smile. She opened it up and checked his appearance against the photograph inside. Then her smile broadened.

"Oh, I have just the ticket!" she said as she pulled something out from under the desk. Arthur was surprised to see an envelope and a paper fan. He blinked and she peered around him to the next person in the queue. He politely moved out of the way and opened the envelope. Inside was a ferry ticket to Calais and a note.

_¡__Hola!_

_¡__Look for more __paquetes__ on the ferry!_

Arthur frowned. What on Earth was that Antonio doing leaving him a note? The others giving him presents, he could mostly understand, but, given their history, they didn't often get along...

He froze. Although he had been telling himself not to believe it, he had just caught himself thinking that he was being given presents. Birthday presents, perhaps?

He blushed and gritted his teeth. That wasn't possible. He didn't tell people about his birthday – mainly because no-one remembered it, not even him. Of course, he and his brothers had the first of May to celebrate a birthday of sorts in the union of their countries into the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. However, it was a rather strained affair and Arthur would much prefer not to go to the events.

But he still didn't have an official birthday. And he probably never would.

The tannoy crackled into life and Arthur checked the ticket again before hurrying off.

* * *

Arthur sat with his legs crossed. A ferry was too complicated to look for things he had decided. After all, there were places he wasn't supposed to go and places difficult to search in when there were so many people around. He placed an elbow on the armrest of the chair and rested his chin in his hand.

No, he would definitely not look.

He cursed himself for wanting to when he felt so exhausted. All this travelling had taken it out of him and he was heading to a place he really wished he didn't have to on his day off. He sighed heavily just as he heard a rustling beside him.

Glancing round, he found a package on the seat beside him. After looking round for the owner, he picked it up and found a sticker on the outside with his name written on it. He opened the carefully wrapped package and something fell into his lap. He picked it up, a chain dangling from it. A ring was in his hand. Looking at it closely, he noticed writing on the inside and he angled it to catch the light, ignoring the rest of the package for the moment.

_"It's some form of Elvish. I can't read it."_

The quote flashed into his head as he realised what it was. A Lord of the Rings ring. He chuckled, amused at what Charlie had given him. Slipping the chain over his head, he returned his attention to the other thing in the package.

It turned out to be a t-shirt which had the word Seychelles on it and a bright design. He smiled a little and carefully folded it up.

The last thing in the package happened to be the note. He sighed. Did he still have more to find? Pulling a dissatisfied face, he unfolded it and read it.

_There are more things in the Calais ferry terminal!_

_{Bonne chance!}_

Arthur smiled. They were such nice people to have as family. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, remembering the past as he dozed off.

* * *

Arthur looked around the terminal and saw a bulky package sitting on a seat. Next to it was a security guard who looked rather alarmed: that was what had drawn Arthur's attention. He hurried over.

"Ah, excuse me. I think this is for me."

The guard, however, stepped into his way and began chattering away in French. Arthur tried to communicate in English but the guard just looked confused and scared. He obviously didn't understand Arthur's language nor why he was trying to pick up a package. Gritting his teeth, Arthur looked around for someone to translate. The area was empty, however, and he didn't want to leave in case the security guard took it away. He sighed.

"Dammit," he muttered before speaking to the guard again. "Desolé. Je pense que ce paquet est pour moi."

"Huh?" said the guard, now confused at the situation. Why would a package left lying in Calais be for an Englishman?

Arthur explained – in slightly broken French – about the trail he had been sent on. He told him that the next package was supposed to be here and, since it was oddly shaped, he presumed it was for him. He paused and looked at it. It, in fact, looked as though it was from Riley.

The guard relented and let him open it. It turned out to be a boomerang covered in Aboriginal art. It was pleasing on the eye and, since it didn't seem to pose that much of a danger, the guard left. He still kept a suspicious eye on Arthur, though, as the nation read the next clue.

_G'day. Ha!_

_You have to go to the capital now!_

_Have fun, mate!_

Arthur scowled. He didn't want to get _closer_ to the one person he _certainly_ didn't want to see today. He sighed and walked off, glad they had thought to buy a ticket which covered his car, too. Though he was not going to relish having to drive on the right-hand side of the road. Stupid Frog.

* * *

Arthur found himself driving round Paris. Or, at least, he was _trying_ to drive around Paris. He was beginning to wish that he had left the car behind and just gotten on a train at Calais. Having to brake harshly for the hundredth time, he tried hard not to shout obscenities at the driver since both their windows were open.

He was going to pop a vein in his forehead.

Annoyed, he growled. Where the hell was he supposed to go?! Go the the capital? But capital cities were huge and he had no clue where he should be driving!

A familiar sight caught his eye and he glanced at the Eiffel Tower. On instinct, he cut across some lanes to start driving towards the famous landmark. Horns blared and he stuck his two forefingers out of the window at the nearest one.

After a few minutes of hectic and furious driving, Arthur finally arrived at the Tower. Relieved, he parked where he could and hurried off to buy a ticket to get up to the top. The Frenchman, thankfully, spoke English and, when Arthur asked if anyone had left a package for him, he was told that there was someone at the top waiting for him. Arthur sighed with relief. If there was someone there, perhaps it was the end of his journey. He hurried into the lift and let the operator take him up.

When he got to the top, he walked around in a circle, not looking at the beautiful view bathed in sunlight. He didn't spot anyone he knew and he stamped his foot in frustration.

"Excusez-moi, Monsieur?" said a voice he didn't recognise. He turned to find a tanned man in shorts and a t-shirt holding a small box. His dark eyes looked at him curiously. "Are you Monsieur Kirkland?" When Arthur nodded listlessly, the man continued. "I was asked to give this to you." He held out the box and Arthur took it and pulled it open rather aggressively. The man backed away before hurrying off.

Inside the box was something Arthur felt he was in need of to calm his nerves – if only he had a kettle and a teacup! Unfortunately for Arthur, he was going to have to wait to drink the maple tea. He almost didn't find the note as it was tucked between the outer box and the box of tea. Thankfully, Arthur saw a corner and tugged it out.

_This place will close soon if you don't get there soon. _

_It is a large museum and very famous._

_I'm sure you know which one it is, Arthur._

Arthur's eye twitched. This was really getting ridiculous. If there wasn't an end soon, he'd just drive like a bat out of hell and get back home. He could still have a quiet night in.

* * *

At the entrance to the Louvre, Arthur was stopped. "I am sorry, sir," said the attendant, her English very good for being French. "We are closing in five minutes. You cannot come in."

"Ah, well, no, you see," said Arthur, a little flustered from his surprise at how well she was speaking his language. "I was told to come here to pick up something..."

"Ah!" exclaimed the attendant with a smile. "Are you Monsieur Kirkland?"

"Ah, yes. Exactly," said Arthur, flashing her a small, apologetic smile.

"Well, here you go." The attendant brought something out from under her desk and Arthur stared at them in confusion. They appeared to be intricately woven balls, their bright colours making them look cheerful.

"What on Earth...?" muttered Arthur.

"These are called "temari bells"," the attendant explained. "They are from Japan and were originally made as toys. Now, they are used as an art form. They symbolise friendship and loyalty. And, if I am remembering right, he said that the bright colours is to wish you a brilliant and happy life. He also said you have to go to the Moulin Rouge next."

Arthur had turned bright red, his eyes wide. "Kiku...?" he breathed, taking the bells. He tried not to seem happy with the present. Although, he really shouldn't be thinking of them as a present. But it _was_ from Kiku. Trying to suppress his happiness, he turned to go before he seemed to register what the attendant had last said. He spun back round and looked at her, aghast, still red in the face.

"He said I have to go _where_?!" he exclaimed. Remembering himself he cleared his throat and quickly added, "I-If you would be so kind as to tell me, ma'am."

The attendant appeared to be amused. "Le Moulin Rouge."

* * *

Arthur had found his trench coat in the back of his car and he pulled it on. He had tied it up tightly so his clothes wouldn't be visible to any witnesses and he pulled up the collar of his coat to make sure his face was shielded. After more rooting around, he found a hat he kept in case of emergencies and pulled it onto his head. He tugged everything into place and entered the Moulin Rouge with a shifty glance along the street.

"Um, excuse me," he asked the woman in the booth. She looked up. "I think you have a package- You have something- Someone left some-" He gave up, his face hot from embarrassment. Whoever's bright idea this had been, he would be having words with them.

The woman, meanwhile, picked up something from below the desk and squeezed the parcel through without comment. Astonished, Arthur hurried off, rushing back along the street to where he had left his car. Beside it, he stopped, caught his breath and looked down at it. This time, the note was outside and he read it.

_Come to ma maison, mon cher._

_But do not forget to wear this!_

Worriedly, Arthur opened the parcel and shook out the clothes. A French maid's outfit assaulted his eyes. He stared at it. A small noise escaped from his throat as his face heated up once again.

"YOU BLOODY FROG!" roared Arthur all of a sudden, startling some passers-by. He threw the dress to the floor and stamped on it. Lowering his voice a little, he shouted some more. "If this is all I'm here for, I'm going to beat your head into a wall! Repeatedly! Die, Beardy!"

Gritting his teeth and making little growling noises, he scooped up the dress – no sense in littering, even if he didn't want the thing – and clambered into the car, ready to lead a lone assault on the Frenchman.

* * *

The unfortunate Brit almost crashed his car when a firework went off as the gates opened. He blinked in surprise and stared upwards. The firework wasn't alone, however, and soon Arthur's ears were assaulted as beautiful blues, greens and reds filled the sky. As golden sparks showered down on the drive, Arthur drove further in, wondering whose fireworks they had been. Although, they seemed rather familiar and he had a sneaking suspicion that Francis wasn't actually alone...

Sure enough, he found the drive full of black cars. His Mini looked rather ridiculous next to them and he blushed a little, rather annoyed. With a sigh, he put the handbrake on and switched off the ignition. He got out of the car just as one last firework exploded above him. He jumped and had to take deep breaths as blue, red and silver filled the sky.

_The colours of the Union Jack?_

Clicking his tongue, he steeled himself and marched up to the front door. He seized the knocker and pounded it on the wood. There was a creaking noise and it opened, beckoning him inside. Annoyed at the absence of people, he marched onwards, towards where he knew the living room was. He threw open the doors and stepped inside.

A cacophony of noise assaulted him as several people said "Happy Birthday!" in their own languages. A large banner written with red on white read "Happy Birthday England". Party hats were everywhere, confetti rained down, he could see a table laden with various foods and a huge cake. Then he was crowded with people he recognised as he blinked in surprise; there was Yao and Ivan and was that Riley? Someone looped a flower necklace over his head. Another forced a party hat on him. A glass of rum was, thankfully, placed in his hand. Finally, he was pulled further into the room and a space was cleared so that he was finally facing Alfred.

"A-Alfred?" he stammered.

"Yo, Artie! Happy birthday!" He grinned at the surprised Arthur. "I have a present for you!" He hurried over to a table and picked up a box with a red ribbon before rushing over. "Open it, open it! I wanna see your face!"

Arthur turned red once again. The American looked like an excited child; he couldn't refuse him. He stared down at the present, amazed. Everything he had picked up on his way here _had_ been a present for him. Everyone had made a superb effort. Everyone had _cared_ about him. He was so happy he could feel himself starting to tear up a little but he swallowed it and undid the surprisingly neat bow – Alfred had really put effort into it. He pulled the lid off the box.

He was never sure what happened next except that there was movement from the box and, suddenly, his face was dripping cream and custard. The silence in the room was suddenly broken by Alfred's loud laughing.

"AHAHAHAHA! You totally fell for it, dude! This is revenge for all those joke presents you always give me! Now you have to get me better ones!" Arthur barely had time to remove the stuff from his eyes and glare at Alfred before he was out of the door, laughing all the while.

The silence returned, the rest of the party unsure as to how to react to the current situation. Arthur was still dripping but his eyes were free and he glanced round. He spotted someone moving and grabbed them.

"Eek! Ah, c-cher..." said Francis in surprise, cursing his luck. "Ah, er, Bonne Anniversaire."

"This is your fault, isn't it?" asked Arthur, his voice deceptively calm.

"Er... Well, I... I did not know what he was planning. I thought his present would be something along the lines of..." He broke free of Arthur's grip and mimed holding a present rather low. "'Arthur, this is my present for you! It is my snake!'" The Frenchman mimed opening it and Arthur grabbed him by the collar. "Eep! Or- Well, I thought he might say, 'I am giving you the best present – moi!'"

"So you _did_ tell him." Arthur glared at him before starting to shake him. "You bloody frog! Keep your nose out of other people's business!"

Kiku watched with worry as the fight broke out. He glanced at Feliciano who was eating a slice of pizza. "It is a shame Arthur-san is so upset," he commented.

"Sì," said the Italian. "Especially after his fratello got him such a good present."

"Etto..." said Kiku, confused. "What do you mean, Feli-kun?"

Feliciano beamed at Kiku. "Signor Arthur is always alone on his birthday – he does nothing fun. But he did something fun today!"

Kiku stared at Feliciano for a moment before looking across at Arthur who had calmed down a little. Matthew had brought him a towel and he was mostly cleaned. From this distance, the Japanese man could see that he was blushing a little. He even seemed to be struggling to look unhappy. Kiku chuckled. "Hai. I see what you mean."

* * *

_**The ending is really sweet and I honestly had no intention of making it end with a "Ah, but he **_**did _get a present." But, along the way, and towards the end of writing it, I realised that he'd probably be pretty pleased that someone paid attention to him enough to organise all of that. So I added in that ending._  
**

**_And I also decided that Arthur probably knows French from years ago - hence why he explains things in rather broken French - because the Normans took over at one point and I remember that French was _the _language to know in Europe centuries ago. (Especially if you were exiled royalty from Britain and you wanted one of the Louis' to spoil you, ha!)_  
**

**_I only used canon characters and people that Arthur would have special connections to. Everyone who left a present was at the party, too, if that isn't clear. Also, it wasn't acknowledged by Arthur himself, but the toy soldier is from Peter, made by Berwald and designed by Tino. And Hong Kong was responsible for the fireworks but I thought that might be obvious enough so I didn't put it in. The reason for Ludwig being there was because I reckoned they'd get on well in a "let's get this work done, stop being stupid America" - even if Arthur then ends up being half the problem when he opens his mouth. Roderich and Elizaveta were kind of dragged along since they were nearby. Belgium and Netherlands probably have connections with him, too, but I literally just remembered about them. And, I suppose, it would have dragged this story out longer._**

**_I used Google Translate so, sorry if some of this stuff is wrong. (If what Arthur said in French is wrong, attribute it to him not being good with other languages._**

**_Also, I kind of imagine this turns into something like Halloween for those two. Making more elaborate jokes for presents each year._**

**_Finally, none of this would actually happen. The packages would probably be taken away by bomb experts. And the timing is probably off. I was going to have it all perfectly timed till I realised how far away Stonehenge is from London and how long it takes to get there (according to Google Maps). So, let's just say, magic was obviously involved somehow._**

**_EDIT: I'm actually fixing this. Ludwig is there because of the Hanover family being German originally, etc. And the Netherlands have the connection of that being where William of Orange came from. I think that's all I need to add at the moment.  
_**


End file.
